Morning Coffee
by Linderel
Summary: Harry likes his rituals, damn it.


**Author's Notes: **Just something light inspired by this fabulous piece of fanart: http: // rans .deviantart .com / art / Harry-draco-fanart-43286358 (remove the spaces). Written for my darling HP-muse, Triola.

**Disclaimer: **Neither Harry Potter nor Draco Malfoy have been or ever will be mine. I'm just borrowing them, and Colin, from J. K. Rowling.

**Warnings: **Slight cussing, references to male/male sex.

* * *

**Morning Coffee**  
by Lami-chan

In the recently restored house in Godric's Hollow, there were certain rituals to be followed. For instance, each Friday night both inhabitants of the property would make their way to the slightly wild garden, broom in hand, and at a wordless signal shoot up onto the darkening sky. The next hour would then be spent in attempting to outmanoeuvre each other in increasingly insane, death-defying moves that left them panting for breath and with exhilarated grins on their faces. Afterwards, they would stagger back inside, indulge in a mock-fight, and then shag themselves silly - not necessarily in that order.

Another one, observed every morning rather than merely once a week, was the making and consumption of coffee, a beverage that Harry Potter would to his dying day swear he'd not touched until introduced to it in his seventh year at Hogwarts by none other than Draco-sodding-Malfoy. Not that it made much difference, at this point - five years of using coffee rather than tea to get up in the mornings had quite irrevocably addicted him to the darker substance. Truth be told, he didn't even mind that much, especially given the current circumstances.

Well, at the moment, that wasn't quite accurate. Morning coffee usually didn't involve old housemates with cameras, nor trying to stem the wealth of sarcastic commentary at his lover's disposal. On any normal day he'd have enjoyed and even partaken in the sniping, but apparently he still had to make sacrifices on behalf of fellow Gryffindors. He flicked his wand at the previous night's dishes and then directed his attention at the young man nervously shuffling his feet in the kitchen doorway.

'So, Colin, let me get this straight... You've promised _Witch Weekly_ a photograph series of today's famous wizarding couples and didn't come to think that might include us. And now you have no choice but to either get one or drop the whole thing.'

'Uhm, yeah, Harry, that's… that's just about the shape of it. If you could just…'

'You're free to tell me you're kidding. Any second now.' An ever so slight chill had crept into his voice with the words, and he could see Colin fiddle awkwardly with the strap of his camera, looking anywhere to avoid meeting his eyes. He had a suspicion that he looked more than a little ticked off right then, but who wouldn't?

He liked his routines, damn it all.

Draco, who had been sitting on the counter beside the coffee machine, seemingly engrossed in inspecting his perfect nails, now jumped gracefully down and strode to lean on the table next to his suffering partner. Distracted by the movement of the long legs, it took a moment for Harry to realise he was again being spoken to. After he did, he thought about ignoring the uninvited guest for a while longer. That, however, would not be exactly fair, nor would it be inductive to restoring the relevant peacefulness of the household. With a sigh, he tuned in again.

'It would be just this once, Harry. Please? I swear I'll make them leave you alone from now on, if you could allow this one picture… Please, Harry? For old times' sake?'

And there went the puppy eyes. Colin truly had mastered them at some point, no doubt using them on all of his unsuspecting subjects.

Harry resisted a vague urge to slam his head into the table, and Draco looked much like he was making a heroic effort to refrain from rolling his eyes. The brunet sighed, and, with little warning, dragged the blond head to rest atop his. Better to get this over with as soon as possible. Resolutely he ignored the indignant grumbling of his companion and instead spent a second or ten absorbed in admiring the texture of the red neck-tie he had his fingers wrapped around. Suddenly, the interruption of their morning didn't seem such an inconvenience anymore.

He had plans for that tie.

'Shut up and smile for the camera, Malfoy. I'll make it up to you later.'


End file.
